


All the King's Men

by ilokheimsins



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Magic, OMC & OFC - Freeform, Pirates, Shapeshifters - Freeform, eldritch horror mermaids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4793300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilokheimsins/pseuds/ilokheimsins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only when someone wrenches open the cover of the box that Eggsy's hiding in that he realizes he's been moved.  He's upended gracelessly onto the deck, potatoes rolling out with him as he narrowly avoids landing on his face.  Blades, piercing through delicate curls of metal and shined to high luster, enter his field of vision and Eggsy's eyes trail up the blades as they become legs covered in the looser style favored by sailors.  The legs turn into a body clothed in an elegant white shirt that's rippling with the gentle sea breeze and it all culminates in a face that's dancing with amusement.  The woman's eyes glitter with mirth and she tucks a lock of hair neatly behind her ear before addressing him.</p><p>"I am Gazelle, King of the Ceyran Pirate Clan," She says.  And then she smiles and a terrible shiver runs down Eggsy's spine.</p><p>"And you, dear boy, have stowed away aboard my ship."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the King's Men

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is the massive fantasy-pirates-shapeshifters-magic AU that's been in development, along with some other massive fics. But there's adventure! And mystery! And intrigue! And magical quests for Important Magical Items! All topped off with a sprinkling of romance.
> 
> I think it's fair to say that this may be the longest fic I have ever written - am writing - and I've only got about a quarter of it actually written down thus far.
> 
> I'll be adding tags/relationships/characters as they come up.

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Oxford, there lived a great king.  This king had a circle of knights to whom he entrusted his very life with nary a stray thought.  The knights were known far and wide for their great adventures, subduing evil of both magical and human origins.  It soon came to be that they were titled by the legendary knights of Camelot of old by their king, whether through some force of arrogance or a wish to preserve the great legend, no one truly knows.  There are whispers that, although the king of Oxford changes, the knights remain eternal and immortal, the very same knights who served under the first great king.

No one is entirely sure what the truth is regarding them, not their stories nor their faces.

Everyone, however, knows of how the knights of legend turned upon their latest king, His Royal Majesty Chester King, nearly forty years ago.  The bards still sing of how the great pirate Gazelle, captain of the Valentine, King of the Ceyran Pirate Clan, landed upon the shores of Oxford and persuaded the knights to turn to her ways.  To this day, the kingdom of Oxford lives in fear of the great pirate ships Valentine and Kingsman that roam the seas.

Eggsy thinks it’s a load of bullcock.

See, he’s met Chester King once when he was about ten winters – sort of – when he was sneaking in through the kitchens with Jamal (whose da works as a cook).  They were hiding behind a tapestry from Ryan (whose mum washes linens) and the king came passing by in front of it.  They’d both peeked out from behind the tapestry, eager to get a glimpse of the greatest man in the kingdom, and they’d seen the way a young serving girl, carrying a tower of linens taller than her head, bumped straight into his majesty.

And then they’d heard the way the king reduced the girl to tears with poisonous words and threw her out without a penny to her name.  Eggsy and Jamal, being the polite little urchins that their folks raised them to be, darted out to help her with the linens as soon as the king had gone round the nearest corner.

Leila works down at the tavern now (practically owns the place, she does) and she’s a right force, shouting insults and smacking wandering hands with boisterous cheer with the best of them.  It’s a wonder to Eggsy how someone so strong and bright could have cried in the face of the king’s words.  But there you have it.

So, yeah, Eggsy thinks the king is a right shithead and that his knights are probably at least a little justified in bunkering off.  Especially if they’re really as immortal as legend says, because why would they stick around for all the kings before this one?

Nah, Eggsy doesn’t blame them for becoming pirates.

***

_London Sea, Port of the Kingdom of Oxford_

“Do not let anyone find out who you are,” Merlin says sternly, casting a gaze over the crew.

Most of the oldest Kingsmen look bored, having heard this speech every month or so for the past forty years.  Harry in particular looks spectacularly uninterested in a way that means Merlin will probably have to deal with some kind of issue flaring up before the day is over. He's got a tally running against Kingsley and Percival on who will be the next to cause trouble and he's got quite a pretty sum riding on Harry.

“I mean it,” He says, “We’re in Oxford today.  You know what will happen if Chester gets wind of us being in port.”

There’s a general murmur of assent and Merlin figures that’s about as good as he’s going to get.  Captaining a ship with a crew like this, no matter how skilled they are and how much practice he has, is akin to attempting to herd cats into a basket.

“Merlin?” Roxy pipes up from where Percival is yanking her corset strings tight.  James helpfully has his hands braced on her back to keep her from shifting back when Percival tugs again.

“Yes?”

“Are we free to go as soon as we dock?”

Merlin pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation.  He knows it’s not her fault; Roxy is amongst the youngest of their crew and still sees adventure around every single corner.  As level headed as she normally is, something about being on land always gets her to cause trouble.  He waves a hand in her general direction, a gesture that means he doesn’t want them to but does he really have a choice?

Benjamin cruises them in neatly to a spot that’s close enough to the center of port that the walk won’t be terrible but far enough that it will take the guard ships some time to reach them should something arise, like it always does.

Damn his crew.

By the time the ship has been anchored and all the rope monkeys have clambered back on board and changed, Roxy is standing in front of him, looking every inch the aristocratic lady she’s pretending to be.  There are pins pushing her hair up into the current fashion and jewels glitter at her neck and ears.  The neckline of her dress plunges to show off her cleavage in the style currently favored by the far kingdom of Brogue.  She has a parasol tipped over her shoulder and her other arm linked through Percival’s.

“So you’re escorting me this time, Uncle?” She says as they watch the crew slide the walkway into place.

“Merlin is hoping it will keep you out of trouble,” Percival says.  “Something about James being an irresponsible lout.”

“I take offense to that,” James says from the other side of Percival.  He adjusts his cravat and pecks a kiss onto the cheek of his lover, “I’m not that irresponsible, am I darling?”

Percival looks at the man with a familiar blend of fondness and annoyance before saying, as dryly as can be managed, “Your irresponsibility could fill a book to teach young ones about what not to become.”

Perversely, this makes James look flattered.

Merlin grumbles something about annoying lovers on his ship and then shouts out a call to the ship in general.

 “I expect all the wares to be sold by the time you come back on board!  And don’t cause trouble!”

He manages to get the last order out just before a mass of chaos breaks out as the crew descends from the ship and streams into the harbor.  Roxy follows them primly, taking delicate steps and allowing herself to be led down the walkway by her uncle.  Merlin watches the dock men tip their hats to her as she passes by in her glittering finery and lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

It’s always nerve wracking right when they dock because no one’s ever sure if someone will recognize Roxy as something other than a high born lady.  She’s the sole reason, aside from the wares they sell, that they’re discarded as little more than a merchant ship that takes on passengers for extra fare.  Even though they’ve done this in every port since Roxy came on board, which is reaching the turn of three winters, Merlin still fears that they will be caught out every damn time.

Not enough to actually stop Roxy from taking part in the ruse or to keep Merlin from agreeing.  No, Merlin has had enough of sitting on the sea for days while the men fight over who gets to take the small ship out to port.  It usually takes a week, with such a small number of them selling wares, and during that week, the men left aboard slowly get antsier about having nothing to do until Merlin finally gives into running their damned brawling games or half the crew disappears to have sex in the oddest places.  Places that then have to be cleaned thoroughly.

No, sir, Merlin is not sad one whit that those days are behind them.  Even if having most of the crew in at port means someone inevitably destroys something.

***

Roxy waits patiently outside the tavern with James for Percival to finish bargaining their wares with the tavern owner, a sprightly woman named Leila who brooks no nonsense.  It’s taking far longer than expected and soon enough, James is bored.

“I’m just going to pop off to the market,” He says and flutters his lashes in a way that makes Roxy roll her eyes in annoyed affection every time.

“To buy Uncle Percival some nice trinket?” She inquires.

“You know it,” He grins at her and salutes before taking off.

“You know you wouldn’t have to buy him gifts all the time if you’d just do as you’re told,” She calls after him.

James waves at her and then disappears around a corner, no doubt following the boisterous noise of the nearest market.  Roxy doesn’t blame him for leaving

“You ain’t from around here.”

Roxy turns to the source of the voice and finds a young man, around her age she assumes, watching her from where he’s leaned up on the other side of the tavern door.  She looks him up and down and gives what she hopes is a dismissive look before turning back to face the street.  At least one boy in very port thinks themselves worthy of her affections and, without fail, tries to take her for a night on the town.

“You with that posh bloke inside?” He asks and Roxy continues to ignore him.

“That is none of your business,” She replies curtly.

“Look,” He sighs, “I’m just tellin’ ya that if ye wanna hang around you’d best shove off afore Dean and his goonies get here.  They ain’t gonna be nice to someone pretty like you is.”

Roxy turns to him in surprise and looks him over again.  He’s pretty, with the precise chiseled features many nobles would die to have.  He also isn’t wearing a shirt and his trousers are rolled up above the knee and kept there through the simple expedience of a length of twine.  He’s barefoot as well and, now that Roxy is actually paying attention, looks as if he’s been running errands, if the mud and sweat smeared all over him is anything to go by.

“I cannot go without an escort,” She says.  She very much can and every boy that’s tried to convince her to go somewhere she doesn’t want to learns that very quickly and very painfully.  But she can’t exactly go around fighting people just for the sake of it.  At least, not yet.  By her observations, it usually takes until noon to sell enough of their wares to appease Merlin and another hour or two to sell enough to cover the damages from the fight that almost always takes place before they vacate the port.

“You can’t stay,” He shakes his head. “They’ll be comin’ ‘round soon and ye can’t be here if they do.”

Roxy doesn’t say that she’s sure she can take care of Dean and his men, but again, she has appearances to maintain.

“Very well,” She says and judges the boy to be of an alright sort, seeing as he hasn’t crudely offered to show her a tumble in the nearest batch of hay.  “If you would kindly inform my uncle that you will be escorting me around the market, we can be on our way.”

The surprise on the boy’s face is definitely worth that sentence.

“I ain’t escortin’ ya.”

“You’re the one who presumed to offer advice on my being here,” Roxy says.  “Therefore, it is your duty to see your advice through.”

“I got jobs to complete, got to feed my mum and the baby, now don’t I,” He says, confusion pinching his features.

“I will pay you generously for your time,” She says loftily.  “I’m sure I can afford to pay you twice whatever these jobs would.”

Roxy’s delighted at the way a war breaks out on the boy’s face, shuffling back and forth between wariness and the urge to give in.  Finally he huffs and says, “Gimme a mo’, yeah?”

Roxy nods and he disappears into the tavern, banging through the doors and yelling, “Oi, Leila!  I got me somefin’ nicer payin’ for the afternoon so’s you kin get Jamal to break his back like a damn’d packhorse.”

And then much quieter, quiet enough that Roxy has to strain to hear him above the hubbub of the tavern, she hears, “Hello, sir.  M’name’s Eggsy, sorry, Gary Unwin and yer niece has asked that I escort her ‘round the market for the afternoon.”

“Has she now?”

Roxy stifles a giggle at Percival’s answer and shuffles a bit closer to the door to hear this Eggsy’s answer.

“Yessir, she has.  I tol’ her that it ain’ safe for her to hang around outside whilst you’s bargaining in here.”

“Is it now.”

“It’s true,” Leila’s voice breaks in, “Dean and his men come in around now and it really wouldn’t be safe for a lady like her to be here when they arrive.”

“It will be fine.  James is with her.”

“James?  Who the hell’s James?  There weren’t nobody out with her when I was talkin’ with her.”

The conversation cuts out and Percival comes bustling out of the tavern moments later.  His gaze locks down on her and then moves to the side to see the empty space where James should be.

“Blasted,” He mutters.

“Fine, go, have Gary escort you.  Be back at the ship by sunset,” He says tiredly, “and if you see James, wallop him for me.”

“I shall,” Roxy says, “with all of your love.”

Percival rolls his eyes but he goes back into the tavern.  Eggsy emerges moments later, tugging a loose sleeveless shirt on.  It only takes her a moment to ascertain that this seems to be the preferred style of wear among the workers here and she resolutely doesn’t comment on how every time there’s the slightest breeze, the shirt billows away from Eggsy’s chest to show off his pert nipples, which catch the leering eye of several nearby workers.

“Well then, Gary,” She says. “Shall we?”

Eggsy looks up from where he’s scrubbing his arms with a towel, “Hmm?  Oh, yeah, lemme just clean up me arms.  Can’ go around offerin’ me grimy limbs to a lady, now can I?”

He scrubs a bit harder and then inspects both his arms critically.  Evidently satisfied with their state, he drops the cloth on a nearby stack of crates and offers his arm to her.

“An’ it’s Eggsy,” He says as she takes slips her arm through his.  “Gary makes me sound like some old dodder.”

“Eggsy it is then,” Roxy acquiesces and lets him lead her towards the markets.

***

“You hafta try this,” Eggsy says and shoves a small bowl of cold white stuff into her hands.

“What is it?” She asks, poking dubiously at it with her spoon.

“’S ice cream,” Eggsy says and takes a large bite out of his bowl.  The moan he makes at the bite stops more than one man, some with a lady on their arms, whose gaze lingers on the way Eggsy’s eyes slip shut and his tongue flicks out to lick his already pinked lips.

“I love this stuff,” Eggsy says reverently.  “First bite is always the best.”

He takes another bite and gives a hum of appreciation.  Then he points his spoon at Roxy, “You best eat it afore it melts.”

Roxy takes a small bite and is delightfully surprised to find that the cold treat melts on her tongue to give way to a strong punch of creamy vanilla.

“This is quite good,” She says and shovels more of it into her mouth in as ladylike a manner as possible.

“Innit?  I can’ fuckin’ wait ‘til Daisy’s big enough to actually eat this stuff,” Eggsy says.

“Your daughter?” Roxy inquires politely.

“Nah,” Eggsy shakes his head.  “She’s my baby sister.  Most precious little flowa this world’s ever seen.  She’s gonna be a real beauty when she grows up, you just wait and see.”

He’s cleaned out the rest of his bowl and has resorted to scraping his spoon around the insides to catch the dregs.  And then he licks the spoon to draw it into his mouth before closing his lips and pulling the spoon back out.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Roxy says around a mouthful.

“Wha?” Eggsy pauses with his tongue on the spoon to regard her with confusion.

“The licking and…” Roxy pauses as she fumbles for a word.

“The noises,” She says diplomatically.

“Somefin’ wrong with the way I eat?”

“You don’t know?” Roxy says in amazement.  Good lord, someone like Eggsy would’ve been snapped up by someone on the ship in mere minutes.  A quick glance around shows her that, if he were so inclined, he wouldn’t be lacking in partners around here.  But Eggsy remains oblivious to the whole affair and continues licking his spoon.

He returns the bowl and spoon to the woman working the stall and flashes her a bright grin, “You’re the best, Bertha, you is.”

The woman harrumphs with embarrassed pride and makes a shooing motion at Eggsy, “Ye’ll be the death of me, with yer appetite.  Now go, away with ye.  I’m sure yer lady here will wanna see more of the markets.”

“Oh, I’m not his lady.  My uncle is selling wares and my other…uncle is a bit flighty.  Eggsy here has agreed to escort me until one of them can retrieve me,” Roxy interjects politely.  She runs her own spoon around the rim of the bowl to scrape up the last of her treat and then returns the utensils to Bertha.

“This was delightful, thank you,” She says.

“Aw,” Bertha says, “Yer a real sweet, ain’cha.  Eggsy’s a real darlin’ as well.  Maybe ye should think ‘bout b’comin’ his lady, hmm?”

Eggsy flushes a shade of pink that matches the lace on Roxy’s gloves and Roxy is gripped with the oddest urge to pet him and tell him what a darling boy he is.  She tamps down on the urge and instead links her arm again with Eggsy to tug him away.

“Have a good afternoon, Bertha,” She calls over her shoulder as they saunter away.

“I don’ wan’ ye to be my lady,” Eggsy blurts out as soon as they’re sufficiently far from Bertha’s ears.

“Am I not pretty enough?” Roxy says, more to tease than out of any sort of vanity.

“Yer pretty,” Eggsy mumbles.  “Jus’ you ain’t what I want.”

“Oh?”

“Yer a li’l, y’know,” Eggsy says and avoids her gaze when she turns to look at him.  He skims a look at the crowd to make sure no one’s watching them and then makes a gesture of cupping his chest and drops his hands quickly.

“You like flatter women?” She says.

“You got some stuff I ain’t keen on,” He says.  Roxy furrows her brow for a moment before it hits her.

“Eggsy, are you sly?” She asks quietly.

“Maybe I is,” Eggsy says, his ears pinking.  “Don’t tell nobody, yeah?”

“Oh, Eggsy, I really don’t care,” Roxy pats his hand comfortingly.  “James and Uncle Percival are together, you know.”

“Tha’s differen’.  They’re yer family, ain’t they?  You’s supposed to love them and stuff,” Eggsy mutters. “I’m jus’ some street rat that you’re payin’ to show you the markets.”

Roxy pulls them into a nearby alleyway and drops his arm so she can face him square on.

“Eggsy,” She says, her expression serious, “believe me when I say I don’t care that you’re sly.  You could be the dirtiest, poorest, most criminal being of all time and I would still not care.  Being sly doesn’t make you who you are.  It has absolutely nothing to do with your worth.  Why would you think that?”

“Loads of people ‘round here care,” Eggsy says and tips his head out to the mouth of the alley, where they can both see the bustling market.

“But there are so many of them that look at you like they’d love to tumble you,” Roxy says, confused.

Eggsy shrugs, “Yeah, ‘m good for a tumble cause ‘m pretty.  But I ain’t the kind they can fall in love with, have a kid with.  I ain’t that.  All bein’ sly is good for is bein’ a whore.”

“There is nothing wrong with being sly,” Roxy says firmly.  “I don’t give a good goddamn what these people think as long as you understand that.”

“Ain’t like I think there’s somefin’ wrong with it,” Eggsy says defensively.  “Jus’ ain’t much love for people like me.”

Roxy wishes, in that moment, that she could take Eggsy away from this.  It’s a feeling she’s familiar with.  It happens often when she comes across stray animals who take patience and work to bring to their former selves.  But somehow, she doesn’t think that Merlin will turn a blind eye to her taking in Eggsy as much as he does her stray animals.  At least they eat the rats.  Not that Eggsy couldn’t be useful, he certainly could, but Merlin will simply tell her that they have enough people in their crew.  And Merlin has the final say in letting anyone on board.

Besides, Eggsy hardly seems the type to leave his mother and Daisy behind.  So she tamps down on the urge and links her arm through his again.

“You are a fine person,” Roxy says as she leads them out of the alleyway, “and anyone who disagrees can bugger off.”

***

The rest of the market is a bit of a blur because Eggsy insists on eating everything and by the end of it all, Roxy feels a bit like a beached whale and her corset is probably another fried banana away from simply exploding off her.

“I can’t eat anymore,” She says.

“Good, cause me neivver,” Eggsy groans from where he’s starfished out on the ground.

“I brought ye back to the docks on time,” He says.  “I fink?  I mean yer ship’s still here, yeah?”

“Yes, you did well,” Roxy says and tries to subtly loosen her corset.

“You want help wivvat?” Eggsy says and flails a hand in the general direction of her corset.

“I will not go to bed with you simply because you’ve been courteous this afternoon,” Roxy says stiffly.

“Nah, bruv, ain’t askin’ that.  Leila gets the same way ‘bout her corsets whenever she eats too much leftovers at the tavern after work.  ‘N ‘m sly, remember?” Eggsy says.

“Can you even move to help me?” Roxy raises an eyebrow.

Eggsy tosses his hands in the air and tries to sit up before giving up.

“Nah, can’t,” He says.  “Ate way too much.”

Silence falls between them, backgrounded by the first tendrils of sunset on the horizon and the low chatter of the dock men.  Several men she recognizes from their crew come shuffling by, laughing drunkenly and stumbling up the walk.  One of them waves enthusiastically at her, which she returns sedately, before his mates drag him off.

Percival comes by a bit later, a preening James trailing him.  They stop in front of Roxy and Percival casts a dubious glance to Eggsy’s prone form.

“Your day went well, then?” He asks Roxy.

“It was brilliant.  I ate a lot,” She says and then looks at James.  “Uncle Percival liked your gift then?”

Somehow, James manages to preen even harder.  “He will when I show him how to use it.”

Percival elbows James in the side and James laughs before turning to Eggsy, “This the young man, then?”

Eggsy groans in response and tries to roll over to push himself upright.  When even that proves to be too much effort he waves lamely and says, “Tha’s me.”

“Uncle Percival, Uncle James,” Roxy says.  “This is Eggsy Unwin.”

“Thank you for escorting my niece around the markets after _someone_ ,” Percival casts a glance at James, who smiles innocently, “left her to her own devices.”

“No problem, guv’nor.  She said she’d pay me for it and for all the food I ate.  So we’s good.”

“All the same, thank you.”

Eggsy gives them another flailing wave and Roxy drops a purse of coin onto his stomach.

“Your pay for the afternoon,” She says and then smiles.  “I’ll be seeing you around then, Eggsy.”

“Nah, you ain’t, you’s in port for a day.  I’m here fer life,” He says, but he squirrels the pouch away into a pocket of his trousers.

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other soon,” She says.  “I don’t know why, but I do feel we will be.”

“Could just be yer highborn ladyness talkin’, thinkin’ you’s all psychic and shit,” Eggsy says.

Roxy laughs, “That could be it.  But I’ve learned to trust my intuition.”

“Roxy,” Percival says, “Merlin’s starting to wave at us angrily.”

She rolls her eyes at that.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.  Bye, Eggsy.”

“Later, Rox,” He says and gives her a wave as she’s led away by her uncles.  He lays there until the sky is streaked orange and pink and purple and the sun’s halfway into the water before he heaves himself off the ground to sit up.  A large majority of the dock men have gone home for the day and the few remaining have drawn the short straw on the midnight shift.  A few men stumble by, drunk as all hell, and beeline for the ship he remembers Roxy heading to.

Eventually, after he’s people-watched for a bit, he hauls himself to his feet and makes his way home.  He’s just about at the tavern, which marks the halfway point, when a hand flies out of nowhere to punch him.  Eggsy goes down into the street, swearing and scrambling back to his feet.

“Ye fuckin’ rat,” Dean snarls and comes out of the shadows.  “Ye think ye did good today?  Flouncin’ about with some lady whilst the rest of us worked our fuckin’ hides off?  Did she offer to let you lick her cunt if you took her out?”

“Don’ fuckin’ talk about Roxy like that,” Eggsy says and throws a punch of his own, only to have it stopped by Poodle.

“Nah, maybe she said she’d introduce you to some rich bloke.  Good plan, innit?  Fer yer fuckin’ sly arse, get yerself paid to take a cock or two?  Hmmm?”

Eggsy’s shock must be printed all over his face because Dean chuckles, mean and low, and turns to his boys.

“Lookit Muggsy, thinkin’ we din’ know he was sly.  Ye fuckin’ whore, only thing keepin’ me from sellin’ yer arse to the next one of them dock men that looks at ye is yer mum and I ain’t feelin’ real inclined to listen to her of late,” He says.

“You don’ fuckin’ touch her,” Eggsy snaps back.

“You gonna do somefin’ in her place then, Eggsy?  Gonna show us how good ye can be to save yer mum?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy breathes out, “yeah, I will.”

And then he cocks his hand back and punches Dean square in the face.

***

Harry is so very late.  He’s missed Merlin’s deadline by at least a good half hour.  On the upside, he’s sold everything he was meant to and he hasn’t started a brawl of any sort yet.

Of course, that second one only lasts until he happens on a group of men beating another.  One of them hauls the man up and that’s when Harry sees that he’s very young, hardly a man by Oxford’s standards.  Another pries his jaw open and fumbles with the tie on his trousers.  The young man on the floor thrashes in the grip the men have on him and he looks up, his eyes locking on Harry’s for a split second, before he goes back to snarling at his attackers.

It’s a wild eyed sort of look, there’s no fear in it, only burning hatred and fury.  Harry simply cannot watch this atrocity any longer and steps forward, his umbrella tapping against the pavement.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, I do believe the young man is averse to your current treatment,” Harry says and nods at the young man.  The young man looks up at him, confusion bubbling up across his beautiful features, and Harry resists the urge to straighten and turn so that the half-light hits all his best angles.

“Bugger off, granddad, you want an arse or a mouth?  Ye gotta go down to the whorehouses.  This one’s ours,” A rather short portly man shouts.

“Jus’ fuckin’ go,” The young man says, “you’ll fuckin’ get hurt.”

His tone is snaked through with genuine worry and Harry is touched.  That the young man can spare so much worry for another person even in his situation is only fueling Harry’s desire to help.

“Nonsense,” Harry says.  “It’s quite obvious that you do not want to be here.  And if there is one thing I cannot abide, it is people who force others to their bidding through force.”

He sets his umbrella down on the nearest windowsill and unbuttons his cuffs to roll them back to his elbows.

“Now, perhaps you have heard of the phrase manners maketh man?”

At the stunned looks in front of him, Harry tsks and continues on, “No, then allow me to teach you what this means.”

And then he flies into action, neatly taking out the first man with a strike to the jaw and then the second with a hard punch to the stomach.  The other men let go of the younger man to descend upon Harry and he whirls about, bruising jaws and, perhaps uncharitably, breaking a few limbs on the one about to shove himself into the young man’s face.  It’s all over in a matter of mere moments and when Harry straightens himself out, the young man is staring up at him with a mixture of fear and arousal.  Harry is careful to keep his face neutral, to hide the fact that he may have showed off a bit to see that heat directed positively towards him.

A tongue darts out to lick lips and Harry is momentarily transfixed by the sight before the young man scrambles to his feet and minces his way out of the bodies to stand closer to Harry.  He shuffles his feet, bare against the cobbled streets, and looks up at Harry curiously, arousal still burning in his eyes.  Harry momentarily wonders if there’s some worth to the earlier words speaking to this young man’s profession, but then he erases that thought.  No matter his vocation, there is never any reason to force another to one’s bidding.

“Now, I do apologize for that.  You weren’t supposed to see that.  Merlin will be dreadfully cross with me for getting into yet another fight,” Harry says and retrieves his umbrella.

“You…Can you teach me that?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Of all the responses Harry was expecting, this was the one at the bottom of the list.

“Can you teach me how to do that?  I need to learn how to do that,” The young man, boy, really, says earnestly.

“There is no reason you need to learn how to do that,” Harry says.  The boy’s expression shutters and he scrambles forward to get right up in Harry’s face, as much as he can with their height difference.  The street lanterns wink off his eyes, which shine green, gold, grey, blue in the flickering flame light.  The sight arrests Harry and he finds himself drowning in the young man’s eyes as he snarls.

“Yeah?  Ye think so?  Ye think I was on my knees in the fuckin’ streets cause I wanted ta be?  Ye think there ain’t someone I’m tryin’ ta fuckin’ protect from ‘ese shitheads?  You posh types is all the same,” He snaps in anger, “Ye fuckin’ think you’s the reason this fuckin’ world goes on when you ain’t got no fuckin’ knowledge about how it works for us poor folk tryin’ ta make ends meet.”

Harry blinks in surprise and for a moment all he can do is take in the way the young man is staring defiantly up at him, eyes blazing with fury and his jaw set into a firm line.

“I do apologize,” Harry says eventually, “I meant no offense.”

The young man sniffs in a way that Harry gathers to mean he is not forgiven.

“Yeah, fine, w’ever, bruv,” He says and turns away.

Harry watches him go, eyes lingering perhaps a bit too long on the pert arse, before turning back to the heap of groaning men in front of him.

“Call it a feeling,” Harry says coldly, “but I think you lot will be far more trouble in the future if I do not take the time to silence you now.”

The fear in their eyes is something Harry will only admit he relishes in the deepest, darkest parts of his soul.

***

Eggsy stumbles home just as his mum snuffs out the candle and she nearly drops the snuffer in shock.

“Eggsy, babe, are you alright?  You’re so late,” She says, hands flittering about him in worry.

“Nah, ‘m alright, mum,” Eggsy says and slumps down at their only table.

Michelle lights the candle again and gasps when the full extent of his injuries comes into view.

“Mum, just drop it,” Eggsy says before she can say anything.  “I’ll be fine.  You go and sleep.  I can deal with this myself.”

“Eggsy…”

“Mum, please.  Please just go to sleep,” Eggsy says tiredly.

“If you’re sure,” Michelle says but she hesitates until Eggsy nods.

He waits until the door to the single bedroom in the house closes and then he reaches into his trousers for the sack of money from Roxy.  Eggsy carefully dumps it out onto the table, heedful to take it coin by coin so that it doesn’t jingle.  He counts it all out and there’s far more than Roxy promised him, enough that he’ll be able to take time off from working the physical jobs at Leila’s tavern so his wounds can heal.  He carefully pulls apart the lining on the bit of his trousers that’s rolled up and gets to work sewing the coin into it.  It’ll hurt if he ever gets knocked onto his knees in a fight, but it’ll be worth it to keep the coins away from Dean.

Once he’s finished with that task, he begins the arduous task of applying healing salve all over his newest set of bruises.  It’s the shit kind of salve, the only kind they can afford, and it really only numbs the pain without actually doing anything else of use.  But it’s the best they’ve got and Eggsy smears it over his wounds until the only thing he can smell is the mint used to numb the pain.  He puts the oil paper back on top of the salve jar and secures it with some string before shoving it into the recesses of the cupboard, where he knows Dean won’t look.

Then he pushes himself to his feet, wincing at the flashes of pain from overtaxed muscles, and goes to his room.  He pushes the door open slowly and tiptoes his way over to the cradle in the corner.  Daisy is sleeping peacefully in it, covered in a ratty blanket that’s really now more a collection of patches than a true blanket.

“Hello, flowa,” He whispers and runs a gentle hand down Daisy’s cheek.  She snuffles a bit but doesn’t wake and Eggsy smiles.  He brushes her hair back and lays a kiss on her forehead.

“Don’ you worry, flowa, big bruv’s nevva gonna let Dean touch you,” He promises.

“Never.”

***

Harry is contemplating what to do with the pile of unconscious bodies in front of him when Percival and James come sauntering up, cool as you please.  James whistles at the sight of the men laid out on the street and claps a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Galahad, doing a bit of midnight vigilante work there?” He says brightly and Harry rolls his eyes.

“They were forcing unwanted attentions upon someone,” He says by way of explanation and James’ face goes hard.

“Were they now?” He says flatly.

“Perhaps we should treat them in kind,” Percival suggests.  “Since they seem so keen on the idea of unwanted attentions, we really should show them how it’s done.”

“Precisely what I was thinking,” Harry says.

“I saw a cart a street back,” James says and darts off to go get it.  When he returns, towing a sizably large hay cart, the three of them get to work loading the unconscious men onto it.  Harry has the foresight to toss a tarp across the top, just to cover up the sight of unmoving bodies from anyone who should be so curious as to peek outside their window in the small hours.  Their trek down to the docks is uneventful, aside from James getting momentarily distracted by some shining trinket hanging above a door and tripping over an uneven cobblestone.

To say that Merlin is displeased with them would be a vast understatement.  The man is watching them keenly as they trundle the cart up to the walkway and he is significantly less than happy with them as they, and several of the rope monkeys, heft the still unconscious men up to the ship.

“Care to explain this?” Merlin says, waving a hand wearily at the men tied to the rails.

“They were being quite free in their affections,” Harry says diplomatically.  “Very free, in quarters that clearly did not wish for them.”

“So Harry punched them all out,” James cuts the explanation short and Harry shoots him a glare.

Merlin just tosses his hands in the air and walks away from them, muttering darkly, “Of course he did, he can never go anywhere without punching someone out.  It’s like he expects trouble won’t come bite him on the arse at the least opportune moment.”

He strides to the end of the ship and smacks Doons, the current master of the sails, on the shoulder.

“Wake up,” He says.

Doons blinks sleepily up at Merlin and then his gaze drifts to Harry and the line of men tied up on the side of the ship.  He groans in anguish and says, “Fucking really?  Again?  I thought you said we weren’t going to have to deal with this again.”

“I said a lot of things, Doons,” Merlin sniffs haughtily.  “But does Harry adhere to them?  No, he never does.”

Doons swears angrily but clambers up to trudge over to the lines, giving Harry the evil eye all the while.  Harry ignores it with years of practiced ease.  Doons is very much a proponent of order and Harry all but eschews order unless Merlin forces him into it.

A length of rope ripe with the scent of mage work smacks him in the face and he turns to see Doons glaring angrily, “If you’re going to tie them to the rails, at least use something strong.”

“Thank you,” Harry says pleasantly.  Doons huffs and turns to get to work on the ropes.  Harry lets Percival at the ropes because the man actually knows how to use magic and turns away to watch Doons work.

The man tilts his head to the sails and raises his hands up to close them tightly and then he yanks down.  Ropes tighten and the sails snap open in response, billowing white against the deep night sky.  They pull taut and the ropes knot themselves to their proper masts.  Finally, Doons lowers his hands, breathing harshly and sweating heavily.  He pulls a length of knotted rope out of his pocket and pulls the first one free.  A light breeze comes rushing across the desk, just enough to get the sails rippling.

He pulls the second and third and a hard wind blows, filling the sails and pulling the ship free from the port.  Merlin gives the order to stop some leagues out, where the water is deep and dark and Oxford is a pale speck on the horizon.

“In the morning,” He orders when Harry moves to wake their unexpected guests up.

“Merlin,” Harry says.

“In.  The.  Morning,” Merlin orders again and then leaves.

“Come on, Harry,” James says.  “You know how he gets.  Besides, don’t you want to see what you’re doing to them?  You can’t do that by torchlight.”

It’s a paltry excuse to get him to obey Merlin, but Harry takes it for what it is and goes to his cabin, sparing one last withering glare for the line of men tied to the side of the ship.

***

Eggsy wakes slowly, in waves of awareness that recede back into an imitation of sleep before coming back stronger.  When he finally feels awake enough to open his eyes, light is streaming in through the window, bright and yellow.  He stumbles sleepily out of bed, stopping just long enough to check that Daisy is sleeping peacefully.

His mum is long gone, most likely with the first rising of the sun.  She works clear on the other side of the kingdom and no matter how much Eggsy tries to wheedle her into taking work on this side, she shuts him down, citing that they pay a far sight better on the other side.  Eggsy knows this, it’s just that he can’t stand seeing his mum so worn and tired all the time and they really can’t keep foisting Daisy off on old Madam Munchett.

There’s no sign of Dean having ever come home, which is odd.  Eggsy looks carefully around their small kitchen but there’s nothing.  No broken shards or hungover henchmen.  He ticks that off as strange, but a blessing and gets ready for the day.

He’s just about ready to go out the door, first to drop off Daisy and then to Leila’s for work, when there’s a knock at their door.  Eggsy carefully sets Daisy back down into her cradle, but she peeks curiously over the top, making a disappointed grabbing motion at him as he slowly moves towards the door.  He pulls the door open the barest crack, just enough to peer through.  Madam Munchett’s son, who’s starting to grey just slightly around the temples, is practically vibrating out of his skin on their doorstep.  Eggsy opens the door all the way and looks at the nervous man.

“Mornin’ Drew, you need somefin’?”

“Me mum can’t watch the wee one,” Drew says.  “She says she’s quite sorry, but she’s caught somefin’, an illness or sommat.  She don’ want the babe catchin’ it.”

Panic wells up in Eggsy’s gut, but he squashes it down and smiles, “Tha’s alright, Drew.  Ye just tell Madam Munchett that both the flowa and I hope she gets all better soon.”

“Eggsy, are you sure?  I mean, I know you need someone to watch Daisy fer ya,” Drew says and actually wrings his hands.

“Nah, bruv,” Eggsy waves him off.  “Bringin’ Daisy in ta work fer one day won’t be the worst.”

“If you’re sure?”

“’M right sure, now go take care of yer mum,” Eggsy says and shooes the man off.  Drew gives him a grateful look over his shoulder and scurries down the road to his mother’s.

Eggsy shuts the door and ambles back over to Daisy, who grabs onto his shirt as soon as he’s in range.

“Ye wanna come to work wif me, flowa?” Eggsy asks with a smile.

Daisy shrieks happily and demands to be picked up by waving her arms up.

Eggsy laughs and hauls her out, “Let’s be on our way then, yeah?  Can’t make Leila mad by bein’ late or she’ll fry us both.”

***

Leila takes one look at him, at his darkening eye and the shadow of purple creeping up his neck and the baby slung around his neck, and orders him to wait the bar.  He doesn’t protest for once, his muscles creaking and aching whenever he lifts so much as a single tankard of ale.  The pay for working the bar is lower than that of working the labor intensive errands, but Eggsy doesn’t mind.  It helps that he can feel the weight of coin in his trousers and that no one can actually reach him over the width of the counter.

The tavern is quiet for nearly the entire morning, with only the occasional patron stumbling in for a late breakfast or early lunch, and Eggsy spends most of it washing up dishes and cooing at Daisy.

“Tha’s me li’l flowa,” He says as she takes a bite of mashed peas.  Her face scrunches up and Eggsy holds his breath and hopes she doesn’t spit it all out.  The second passes and she swallows, looking thoroughly disgusted at all the life choices she’s made in her very young life.  Eggsy laughs brightly and coaxes her into one final spoonful before setting down to his own lunch.  He eats quickly because lunch usually brings in a large rush of people and it’s usually at least an hour or two before it settles down again.

He spends the rush pouring ale and lifting new barrels up so that he can pour even more ale.  By the time the last barrel is spent and the last few patrons are tossing him their coin, his feet are soaked in the stuff.

Ryan comes in just as the lunch rush ends.  He sets up a place on the opposite end of the counter as the lone patron seated there and unwraps his lunch.  It’s a far cry better than what he’s usually got and Eggsy mentions as much.  Ryan smiles and tells him that his latest girl is a sweet one who makes prime lunches.

“She’s an angel, she is,” Ryan says reverently as he roughly spoons up a mouthful of rice.

Eggsy rolls his eyes and then pours out another tankard of ale for the customer at the other end of the counter.

“She know she’s gonna be gone by the end of the week, yeah?” Eggsy says and pushes the tankard down the counter.  He catches the coin that’s flipped to him and brings it up to his mouth to bite and test it with practiced ease.  Since it’s not gold, his teeth don’t leave any marks, which is satisfactory, and Eggsy tosses it into the cup holding silver.

“I ain’t gonna toss her over,” Ryan says around a mouthful of meat.

At Eggsy’s disbelieving look, Ryan swallows and slings a hand over his heart, “Swear down, mate, me thinks Anna’s the lady for me.  I ain’t thought of bein’ wif nobody else for months.”

Eggsy raises an eyebrow, “So I’m gonna be hearin’ them chapel bells fer ya sometime soon then?”

“I jus’ gotta get me up enough coin to appease her pops,” Ryan says and shrugs.

That prompts a wince from Eggsy.  Anna is the blacksmith’s daughter, which makes her relatively wealthy, even if not on the same par as the posh nobles.

“Yer mum know ‘bout yer plans?”

“She finks I’m shootin’ too high.  Finks Anna’ll ditch me fer some posh bloke from the castle,” Ryan says sadly.

“Nah, bruv, she makes ye lunch, don’t she?  Jamal tells me that she ain’ never done that for any of the boys who courted her from up at the castle,” Eggsy encourages.

“Yeah, she don’t do that, now do she?” Ryan brightens up immediately.  “’Sides, ‘m almost there.  It’s been bare long eatin’ only this lunch and a little bit of bread for the evenin’, but ‘m almost there.”

“Yeah?  How much coin you missin’?”

“I need me a couple silvers and a gold and then we’s prime, we is,” Ryan says.

Eggsy mentally counts out what he’s got in his trousers and motions for Ryan to lean in.

“Look, bruv, I kin help ye out.  But ye can’ tell no one,” Eggsy whispers.

“Eggsy, I can’ fuckin’ take yer wages.  Ye got Daisy to look afta’,” Ryan shakes his head.

“Ryan, ye daft lump, jus’ say yes.  Ye think I’d be offerin’ if I didn’ think I could take care of Daisy and help ye out?”

Ryan looks dubious, but he acquiesces.

“Good, meet me after my shift—”

“Ah, Eggy.”

Eggsy grits his teeth and looks up to see Charlie in the doorway of the tavern, flanked by his ever present entourage.

“Charlie,” He says, all frosty politeness.

Charlie slips into a seat at the best table in the house, it’s slightly elevated to avoid the inevitable drip of liquor on the floor and the table itself is wood Eggsy carved himself for Leila.  His entourage packs themselves in around him and Eggsy tries to ignore them until he absolutely has to.

“Eggsy,” Ryan whispers.  “What’re ye gonna do ‘bout Charlie?”

Eggsy gives him a confused look, “What I always do, mate?  Ignore ‘m ‘til he buggers off.”

“Nah, bruv, ain’t what I mean,” Ryan shakes his head.  “I mean the offer.  Whole bloody lower side’s talkin’ ‘bout it.”

Eggsy sets down his cleaning cloth and looks Ryan square in the face.

“What offer?”

“Ye don’ know?”  Surprise climbs over Ryan’s features and Eggsy shakes his head.

“Charlie offered a fair sum of coin to Dean to buy ye for his bed and Dean took it,” Ryan says in an exhaling rush of air.

“Yer takin’ the fuckin’ piss,” Eggsy says because it’s all he can say and it’s the only explanation that makes sense.

Ryan is just about to reply when Charlie calls out, “Eggsy, we’re waiting.”

“I’ll be back in a mo’ and then yer gonna tell me ‘zactly what you heard,” Eggsy hisses to Ryan and lifts one panel of the counter so he can sweep out into the general area.

“What you need?” He says when he reaches the table.

Charlie openly looks him over in a manner that makes Eggsy feel like he’s naked and being spread open for anyone’s view.

“I think I’ve got what I need,” Charlie says, nodding at Eggsy.  “I paid a fair sum for it too, now didn’t I, boys?”

His entourage cheers agreement and Eggsy juts his chin up.

“You fuckin’ dealt wif Dean ‘n I don’ fuckin’ honor deals anyone makes wif Dean.  He makes his deals, ‘s fine, but they ain’t my deals,” Eggsy says flatly.

Charlie sits back in his chair, all loose and relaxed, which is why Eggsy isn’t prepared for the way he suddenly lashes a foot out to kick Eggsy’s shin.  Eggsy falls straight onto Charlie, his hands coming up instinctively to rest on Charlie’s chest to break his fall.  Charlie smiles, slow and lecherous, and winds his hands around Eggsy’s waist.  He strokes slowly up the line of Eggsy’s spine and then back down to where his hand sits comfortably above the rise of Eggsy’s arse.

“You may not,” He says in amusement.  “But I certainly expect you to and the courts most definitely do.  I wonder what they might do to your precious sister were they to find out you weren’t honoring Dean’s debts.”

He squeezes Eggsy’s arse and then nods at where Daisy is being entertained by Ryan.

“Ye fuckin’ leave ‘er out of this,” Eggsy says and tries to get out of Charlie’s grip.  Unfortunately, his angle doesn’t give him much leverage and his muscles protest when he tries to break Charlie’s surprisingly strong hold.

“You come home with me,” Charlie says and his tone brooks no argument.

“Yer fuckin’ daft if ye think I’ll do that,” Eggsy says through gritted teeth.

“Then I demand your price in full,” Charlie says and smiles confidently.

Eggsy thinks about the coin in his trousers and supposes it doesn’t hurt to ask, “How much I cost?”

“Quite the pretty sum,” Charlie says and his eyes flicker down to Eggsy’s lips.  Eggsy tries not to lick them, which is his oldest nervous habit, and fails, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.  Charlie hums appreciatively at the sight and then says, “A bar of gold, three of silver, and seven bronze.”

Eggsy’s heart drops.  He probably has enough to pay off the bronze, but unless he can find out where Dean hid the rest of the bars, he’s got no way out.

“Think about how sad it would be for your sister to grow up without her brother,” Charlie says, affecting a moue of sadness.

Eggsy stays silent for a moment, contemplating his options.  He really doesn’t have any and he knows that, but it’s more of a way to convince him that this is his decision.  That he is making this decision without being cornered into it.  It’s a lot harder to convince himself of that than he’d thought it’d be.

“Ye don’ fuckin’ touch me sister or me mum,” He says finally and Charlie smiles triumphantly.

“Of course not,” Charlie says.  “After all, we have a deal now.”

It feels very much like signing his soul over to the devil.

***

The first thing Dean notices when he wakes is the pounding in his head.

The second and third things are the blue of the sky and the slight breeze.

The fourth and fifth are the way he’s tied to something and the angry looking bloke standing in front of him, all done up in the finery of the aristocracy and yet somehow still looking so very piratical.

“Mr. Baker,” The angry man says calmly, “you may have noticed that you and your companions are currently strapped to the side of our ship.”

“I fuckin’ paid off alla me debts,” Dean spits out and he frowns when the posh looking pirate bloke sidesteps the saliva as neatly as you please.

“Merlin won’t be happy with that,” The bloke says, looking down at the spit shining in the sun.  “He’s very precise about the upkeep of the ship, you see.  The only thing he hates more than blood on the deck is spit on the deck.”

“Wot’s this about then?  I fuckin’ paid ol’ Cobbles off yesterday,” Dean says hotly.  Angry posh pirate’s expression doesn’t change a whit and Dean scrambles for someone else who might have the coin to pay off mercenaries to round up him and his gang.

“I assure you, Mr. Baker, this is not about your debts,” Posh pirate says.  “This is about your mistreatment of the young man last night—”

Dean barks out a laugh, “Eggsy?  This is ‘bout fuckin’ Eggsy?  You fuckin’ tell me you’s here fer Eggsy?  How much did the little sly whore let ye stuff it up his arse in exchange fer this?  Hmm?”

“Did you say Eggsy?”

A new voice, a woman’s, comes from his right and he turns to see a young woman, naked and dripping wet staring straight at him from where she’s standing at the rail.  Her grip is white knuckled and she looks seconds away from committing murder.

“Course I did, ye fuckin’ think I have any other sly whores under me roof?” Dean spits out.

The woman accepts a cloth from one of the other crewmen and ties it deftly about her waist.  She stalks forward, head tilted high, and stops in front of Dean.  She looks down at him, head cocked to one side.  It takes only a second for Dean to start feeling uncomfortable, there’s just something wrong with this whole situation and it gets worse when the woman leans down.  Her eyes are black and, when she opens her mouth to speak, her teeth are jagged and pointed.

“What did you do to Eggsy?” She asks, her voice silky and full of the promise of death.

“Woulda fucked ‘im in the street an’ then shipped ‘im off to Hesketh’s boy.  He paid a right pretty sum for Eggsy,” Dean says with bravado he most certainly doesn’t feel.

“Did you know, Mr. Baker, that Eggsy and I are acquainted?” She says and Dean swears he sees a flash of scales ripple over her skin.

“Of course not,” She continues on without pause.  “Eggsy and I only met yesterday, so it’s rather obvious that he hasn’t spoken of me.  But you see, Mr. Baker, Eggsy has managed to become quite dear to me in a very short time and it troubles me greatly to know that he has somehow been under the thumb of someone like you for such a long time.”

“Did you know, Mr. Baker, that there are horrors in the ocean that you cannot imagine?”

Dean starts at the change in subject and narrows his eyes at the woman.

“Fuck’re ye on ‘bout?  Ye fuckin’ crazy?”

The woman laughs, “No, I assure you, Mr. Baker, I am not.  I am, however, what you might call a mermaid.  But unlike your tales, my kin and I are a horror and we take very, very poorly to those touching our beloved pets.”

Scales flash over her face and she splits her jaw wide to show rows upon rows of spiked teeth.  Tentacles sprout from behind her sheet and she squirms until it explodes off to reveal a mass of them writhing about, all of which seem to be keen on reaching forward to strangle him.

The woman leans forward and looks him dead in the eye and hisses, “We take to it very poorly indeed, Mr. Baker.”

Dean doesn’t even have the voice to scream.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me @ ilokheimsins on tumblr!


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